


Of Blood Thicker Than Water

by salems_garden



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Royalty AU, as a treat, bard realizes he’s a dad and has a little breakdown, post all the fuckery of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salems_garden/pseuds/salems_garden
Summary: The recently adopted Sieglinde, sister of ex-prince Wolfram calls his dumb artist boyfriend dad. So what does Bard, said dumb artist boyfriend, do? Well of course, have a small breakdown and get a small talking to from his partner.*Not a necessity but it’s probably a good idea to read Of The Heavenly Divine before this just to get a brief idea on Bard/Wolf’s relationship (there’s a whole fic coming on the royalty au soon but for now y’all just have to deal with two mini fics)
Relationships: Baldroy/Wolfram Gelzer
Kudos: 1





	Of Blood Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the ever so darling and stupid (I say that with all the love I can possibly share) friend, @raviolionmydick. You’ve been so supportive, inspirational, and kind to me for these months we’ve known each other and I can only wish these things upon others upon you and your company in return. I hope you have a wonderful day hun!! :-)

“Thank you, Father,” came the words so gently spoken yet mindless as ever in heart.

The three- including the girl that’d let out the dainty phrase- stand still in their place, unsure how to react in equal manner as they all make eyes at one another for some clue as to what’s to be done or said in response. She’d only been living with the pair for a month now but Bard had assumed from the beginning that her meaning to stay was out of love and devotion to her brother, not quite minding himself but care was never made explicit.

The artist, having been spoken to, searched for an adequate response once again but found himself at a loss and his lover across their small table, did nothing but stare on at the two with a soft smile though the surprise was still freshly laced in his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he managed out, still surprised that the sentiment came when their poor dinner was passed onto her, “uh- dau...ghter? Daughter?”

An embarrassed flush washed over his features as he looked onto Sieglinde for approval at the term though he already found it to be too formal compared to her other nicknames, all shared by Wolfram and himself.  _ Sugar _ , for the mornings she appeared with twice the amount of written frustration and exhaustion over her features.  _ Hun, _ when out working in the fields, something short and sweet to call out to her though more often than not, would it distract the baby lambs and chicks gathered at her muddy boots, who believed it to be they who were called upon.  _ Darling  _ for the quant evenings spent inside the house where Sieglinde would spend at her brother’s side, a book curled into her lap as she read allowed to the two, Wolfram teasing the younger by reading a page ahead and leaving offhand comments of such while Bard, sprawled over the embroidered couch, would bush himself with small sketches of the pair over papers that’d long since lost importance.

“It’s fine,” she assured with an anxious laugh, “I honestly didn’t mean… feel free to call me whatever. Honestly- I don’t mind, I suppose it was just a slip of the tongue.”

And with that, the situation is dropped.

Later that night, he groans into his pillow as Wolf repeats what’s had to be spoken a dozen times already since they’ve retired to their room.

“She called you father,” Wolfram sighs, heart soft in his chest as he looks to his partner with bright eyes. He truly can’t understand the fuss of confusion that came from both the young girl and the artist- it wasn’t as if they hadn’t spent months together and learning what a good family ought to be (even if such is made up of an exiled prince, his artist lover, and his young run away sister.). 

The blond pulls the pillow away from his face but doesn’t move to look to the other, already knows that upon seeing his gentle gaze with those sweet words he’ll already have been lost to him. “You heard what she said on it: a mere slip of the tongue,” he huffs, mouth quirking to the side as he speaks, “just as I’ve accidentally referred to my mentors by their first names, it must be expected every now and then. She meant nothing of it.”

Now, it’s Wolfram’s time to huff. Pushing up from his spot in bed, he moves to hover over to others face with a frown. “But she called you  _ father _ , not by your name. And did you see how hurt the poor thing was when you could only repeat ‘daughter’ like some nimwit? She was obviously covering for herself because she was fearful you didn’t return the feeling.”

A sigh sounded low in his throat as he tossed his head to the side, biting his cheek. Bard had never thought of himself as a father, perhaps something more light of the heart: a protector, a guardian, maybe even a role model but  _ never  _ a parent. He couldn’t even dream on replacing her father, a literal  _ king  _ above him in all societal rights, despite how awful the man was. The man believed himself too irresponsible for such a title; it’d taken him months to adjust to being known as the prince’s lover and now to be the adoptive father of his partner’s young sister? Unimaginable. 

“Do you really think she meant it?” Bard asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

A shit eating grin spread on the other’s face as he nodded enthusiastically, “Of course she did, dearest. You know Sieglinde, always so careful with her words I can all but doubt that she  _ hasn’t  _ any better terms if she thought on you as anything less.”

He snickered at that, rolling his eyes as he turned completely to his muse now, “Fine, fine. I admit that she’s definitely far brighter than I with language choice. I just… what if I can’t fulfill what she believes a father to be? What if, in the end, I end up being no better than your own despite my own morals and hopes of her?”

The ex-prince’s smile dropped slowly as he looked down to the other, gently moving forward to scoop Bard’s chin in his hands. “There is absolutely no way that you’ll be worse than that man- and if you even dare edge that line I was be more than happy to set you back in place. Oh, my love, you really ought to think more of yourself- you’re perfectly fit for the role as it is! Sieglinde is more than thankful for your patience in all things, from teaching her to get the rabbits to come close enough to feed or sharing a bit of your works with her; she loves it, as well as you, all the same. I doubt there is any other than you to fill in the role of a father to her- with exception of me of course, our pains are matched from birth as is expected of siblings.”

Face resting in the man’s hands, Bard nodded along simply as he was lectured but kept the words close in heart and memory. “I suppose the blood of the covenant truly is thicker than the water of the womb, isn’t it?” He pondered with a laugh, hand coming to rest upon his lover’s to sweetly rub his thumb along smooth knuckles. “I will apologize in the morning,” the blond hummed, “my behavior at dinner could have certainly been more understanding but I blame her partially for that- I mean, was I really supposed to expect to have my first moments of fatherhood after passing her a glorified bowl of almost rotten meat and oats?”

Wolfram rolled his eyes at that but drew him close nonetheless, nose pressing into golden locks and hummed, “Oh, please be sure to share all that with her tomorrow, I’m sure she’d absolutely love to hear once again how poor we are. For now, it’s best you get your rest. I’m sure you’ll find it difficult to hold her in open arms if you’re too lazy to get your arse out of bed.”

They shared a few more brief laughs and sarcasm to be spared as they lie in each other’s arms, breath soon becoming slow with the gentle beat of a lover’s heart and body resting heavy at one another’s side.


End file.
